by Jasmine Walt
“What else is new?” Drystan grumbled as he took a seat, making Lucyan laugh.
“Come on, now,” Lucyan said. “Let us speak frankly here. You thought you were going to be picked, didn’t you, Drystan?”
Drystan’s shoulders dropped as he took a deep breath. “That’s neither here nor there.”
“Don’t feel bad,” Lucyan assured him. “I thought you were the clear choice, too.”
“As did I,” Alistair piped in, heading right to Lucyan’s liquor cabinet.
“You’ve always been the perfect, disgustingly dutiful son. Which of course should make you father’s favorite,” Lucyan said, needling Drystan a little. Should was the operative word. He didn’t actually believe their father liked any of them all that much, at least not anymore. At some point during his descent into madness, he’d begun to see them as competition rather than family. He seemed fonder of Tariana than any of his other children, even though she was the only one who dared to openly defy him. Or perhaps it was because of that. Lucyan was certain that if a pair of balls dangled between her legs instead of lady bits, she would be next in line for the throne.
A silence stretched until Alistair finally broke it by setting a bottle of scotch on the table.
“Ah, I see you’ve found the good stuff,” Drystan said as Alistair fetched the glasses. Their youngest brother wasn’t a drinker, but after the day they’d had, they all needed it. He poured them all three fingers, which they downed before starting the real discussion.
“I assume we all want a chance to win over the beautiful Dareena and take over the reign?” Lucyan asked, looking at Alistair in particular. “No one wants out of the running now?”
His brothers’ expressions were telling.
“Just clarifying.” He wouldn’t have put it past Alistair to nobly bow down and let the two of them fight it out, but his younger brother stood his ground. “Well, let’s put all the cards on the table, then. I’m willing to do anything for this. Anything,” he repeated, “except damage my relationship with either of you in the process.”
Drystan’s brow lifted a fraction, but Alistair smiled, displaying no surprise. He always thought the best of people, and occasionally, he was right to do so.
“It’s funny you mention that, because that’s what I was planning to say,” Drystan said. “We need to be able to stick together no matter the outcome. No matter which of us ends up on the throne, we will still need to consult one another.”
“Agreed,” Alistair said.
Lucyan wasn’t sure about that. He wanted to remain close to his brothers, but if he became king, he didn’t intend to consult either of them at every turn. He liked them too much, and the idea that his affections could cloud his judgment downright repulsed him. They’d need to take up a hobby and stay away from politics. Knitting, perhaps. Still, regardless of the reason, they agreed they shouldn’t risk their relationship, and that was all he wanted for now.
“Very well, then. Here’s what I propose. We all take turns courting the fair lady until she’s chosen one of us. No stepping on one another’s toes,” he added when Drystan opened his mouth to speak. “We define a schedule and stick to our attributed dates.”
Drystan and Alistair exchanged uneasy glances. Lucyan didn’t really like the proposed arrangement, and it was obvious that his brothers were on the same page. Dragons were possessive and territorial by nature—butting heads against each other and fighting for her time was more appealing to them. But he’d said it, and meant it too: his relationship with his brothers was his priority. This plan might just save it.
None of them had been blessed when it came to family. They had sisters, but their inferior status at court had erected a wall between them. It wasn’t that Tariana, or any of the others, disliked him, or were even jealous; they understood the reasons behind their importance. But still, they’d never formed a real, unbreakable bond. Their siblings were more like cousins—some of them, distant ones. As for the rest, their father was mad, and their mother was dead. When it came down to it, they only had each other, and what Lucyan had, he kept.
“All right,” Drystan conceded.
“It does makes sense,” Alistair agreed reluctantly.
They drank in silence for a little while longer, and after a beat, Drystan brought up the elephant in the room. “What about the… intimate part of the relationship?”
Lucyan winced, knowing exactly what needed to be agreed on here. Their choice was all of them keeping their hands to themselves, or all of them getting the honey pie.
“If we’re to convince her she should pick one of us, I imagine we want to use all of our skills.” Lucyan measured his words. “Besides, she may want to try on the trousers, so to speak. We must make a deal about how to handle that aspect of dating her. Either everyone is hands off or we all get to go as far as she’ll let us.”
He certainly knew what he’d prefer. Getting his hands on her lush curves had been on his mind since she’d swayed in his arms the previous day.
“I believe if she is interested, then anything goes,” Alistair replied.
Drystan nodded in agreement. “I don’t like it, but there’s no other option.”
“Then it appears it’s all settled. We just need to inform the lady.”
Lucyan smirked, remembering her shy, awkward glances. And now, she was supposed to be courted by three princes. A thrill went through Lucyan at the anticipation of everything to come, his hands on her smooth skin as she begged for more…
“No matter what the outcome,” he said, “no matter what we do to win her over, and no matter who she picks, we stick together as brothers. No hard feelings, no fighting, no breaking apart our brotherhood.”
Alistair raised his mug. “A toast, then. May the best man win, and we shall be happy for him. To brotherhood.”
The brothers clinked their mugs together and drank deeply. The deal was done. When the next day began, they would be brothers vying for the attention and affection of their Dragon’s Gift, the most important thing they'd ever fought over.
Lucyan sat back in his chair, trying to recall the last time he'd lost any game. He’d never lost to anyone when it came to wooing women, and he wasn’t about to start now.
16
Dareena fully expected the brothers to come calling at lunch, but not one of them came to her door. She went the entire day without seeing any of them, taking her last meal with the other girls and saying her goodbyes to them, then spending the rest of the time in her room keeping company with a novel she’d filched from the library. Part of her wanted to go searching for the princes, but the other part of her wasn’t sure she was ready to see them yet.
How in the world was she going to choose between them? Dragons were prideful and competitive, everybody knew that. If she picked one, the others would see it as a slight, and she did not want to get between the brothers. They were triplets, and though they’d bickered with one another in the audience chamber, she could tell they were quite close.
And none of that matters, a voice in her head said. Because you are the Dragon’s Gift. It is your duty to continue the dragon bloodline, and you can only do it with one of them.
Yes. There was no getting around that. The brothers knew as well as she did that only one of them would have her. They had known this their entire life, had prepared for it, even if they were not agreed on which one of them should succeed. If this competition tore them asunder, that was not Dareena’s fault. Their relationship was either strong enough to withstand this, or it wasn’t.
Making sure the dragon line continued was paramount.
BY THE TIME MORNING CAME, Dareena had worked herself into a righteous fit. Did the princes really think they could make her a pawn in some game and then shove her off into a corner and forget about her? She hadn’t seen them all day yesterday, and it was getting close to noon again.
“I’m not staying cooped up in this room another moment longer,” Dareena declared as she toed on a pair of slippers.
“Unless the princes have suddenly been called away to war, one of them should have come to see me. I’m going to seek them out, even if I have to go to their chambers.”
“I wouldn’t advise that,” Rona said hastily, rising from the chair in which she’d been darning socks. “Especially when it comes to Prince Lucyan. He—” She cut herself off, her cheeks coloring.
“He what?”
“He…umm…” Rona pressed the tips of her forefingers together and looked away. “He likes the ladies,” she finally said.
“Well that’s not going to work in his favor at all,” Dareena decided, turning away. She opened the door, then jumped to find Lucyan himself standing outside, holding a bouquet of red roses in his hand.
“My lady.” He bowed with a flourish, extending the roses to her. “You look stunning this morning.”
Dareena stared at him as she gently took the bouquet. The roses were fresh, she realized as she caught a whiff of their fragrance. Likely picked just that morning. “A lovely gift,” she said, handing them off to Rona, who hovered behind her. “They might have been better received had you brought them sooner.”
“My apologies, lady,” Lucyan said, flashing a smile that didn’t look particularly repentant. “My brothers and I were hashing out the terms of the competition, and we thought you might want to be alone for a bit after all the excitement anyway.”
“The terms?” Dareena’s eyebrows rose. “I thought the terms were already set yesterday.”
“Yes, well.” Lucyan scratched the back of his head, looking a little sheepish. “That was all very spur of the moment, and we realized that in order to keep things fair, we might want to set a few ground rules.”
“And what are these ground rules?” Dareena asked, intrigued despite herself. How did the brothers manage to work this out in a way that they deemed to be “fair?”
Lucyan glanced around. “Might I come in?” he asked. “I don’t quite feel that it’s appropriate to have this conversation in the hall.”
Dareena bit her lip. She wasn’t certain it was a good idea to be alone in her bedroom with one of the princes, but then she glanced over her shoulder and remembered Rona. She had a chaperone—it would be all right.
“Very well.” She stood back. “You may enter, but only for a moment.”
Lucyan strolled right in as if he owned the place, taking the seat Rona had vacated. Dareena sat on the edge of her bed, not wanting to get closer—like Drystan, he seemed to suck up the space in the room, though not quite in the same manner. With Drystan, it was like he was instinctively dominating, but Lucyan…his presence seemed to curl around her, the way the scent of freshly baked pastries did as they wafted from the kitchen. Beckoning her to come closer and take a bite. Lucyan seemed to know it, too, from the way his eyes sparkled, and Dareena sat up a little straighter, refusing to let herself get distracted.
“So,” she said, forcing her mind back on track. “What are these ground rules?”
“Well, the first thing we decided was that we will not all vie for your attention at the same time,” Lucyan said. “We felt that was unfair to everyone, as you would not be able to properly get to know any of us if we were all talking to you at once or trying to ambush each other and spirit you away somewhere.”
“Seems logical,” Dareena said. “Is there to be some kind of schedule, then?”
“Precisely,” Lucyan said. “We’ll rotate between the three of us every day, so you’ll never have to contend with more than one of us…unless you so choose,” he added with a wink and a roguish grin that started up a bevy of butterflies in Dareena’s stomach. Suddenly, she was far too aware of her position. It would take very little effort for Lucyan to press her back onto the bed and cover her with his big, hard body. Was Rona enough of a chaperone? Perhaps she should have an army of maids in here to protect her virtue.
“That’s fine,” Dareena said, brushing the feelings aside, “but I want a day off.”
Lucyan blinked. “A day off?”
“Yes. Three days with each of you, then one day to myself,” she insisted. “How am I supposed to choose if I don’t have any time alone to think on it?”
“Very wise of you.” Lucyan cocked his head. “Yes, we’ll concede, though it will cut down on the time in which we have to woo you.”
“All the more reason for the three of you to work harder to win my favor,” Dareena said saucily.
Lucyan threw back his head and laughed. The light streaming in from the window to her left side illuminated his face, setting his red hair aflame and his white teeth gleaming. How in the world was it possible for a man to be so handsome?
“I knew I liked you.” He stood and prowled toward her, her heart beating faster the closer he came. His amber eyes gleamed as they trailed down her body, then back up again to her mouth, and the next thing she knew, Lucyan had slid his fingers beneath her jaw. “Just think,” he said, dipping his head. “The game hasn’t truly begun yet, and I’ll be the first to kiss you.”
The smug hint in his voice penetrated the haze that had descended on Dareena, lighting a spark in her breast. “You think so?” she asked playfully. She pressed a gentle hand against his chest to keep him at bay. “Is it your day with me today?”
Lucyan sighed. “No,” he said ruefully, letting his hand drop. “I’m afraid you’re stuck with the boring brother first.”
IT TURNED out that the brothers had drawn straws, and Drystan would be the one to take her out today. The only reason that Lucyan had been the one to deliver the news to her was because he’d challenged Drystan to a game of roshambo and won. Drystan was waiting for her in the foyer, so impatiently, Lucyan claimed, that if Dareena didn’t hurry down there he might well leave without her.
Dareena had quickly ushered him out, then had Rona help her change into a proper dress for an outing. This one was rose-colored, with a square neckline and bell sleeves. She was surprised she was so eager to see Drystan—she had not spoken to him since her brief exchange with him during the night of the ritual, and of the three brothers, he was the one who seemed the most mysterious. His stern countenance and brooding good looks seemed to beckon a woman, as if she might unravel his secrets if she could just get close enough…
“There you are,” Rona said, stepping back—she’d braided Dareena’s long hair into a side plait that hung down over her right shoulder, obscuring part of her collarbone. “Let’s get going—you don’t want to keep the prince waiting.”
As promised, Drystan was waiting in the foyer for her. He looked tall and commanding, dressed in a dark blue and silver tunic that showcased his broad shoulders and back very nicely. He was studying one of the stained-glass windows, his arms clasped behind his back, but he turned slowly as she approached.
“You look beautiful,” he said, surprising her with a smile. The curve of his lips softened the hard planes of his face, making him much less intimidating, though his presence still seemed to suck all the air in the space. Dareena immediately understood why Drystan thought he deserved to be king—of the three brothers, he seemed to carry the air of command almost effortlessly.
“Thank you, my prince,” Dareena said as she curtsied.
“Call me Drystan,” he insisted, offering an arm. “There’s no need to be so formal. We are, after all, to be family. Although on what terms remains to be seen.”
Dareena smiled. “Drystan,” she said, taking his arm. It was so much bigger than hers, and yet it felt right, as if her hand, though tiny in comparison, belonged on his forearm. She hadn’t expected to feel so at ease with him, not after that heart-pounding encounter in the garden, and yet as he escorted her out into the sunshine and down the steps to the waiting carriage, she felt none of the nerves she had expected.
“I hope my brother did not trouble you too much when he called on you this morning,” Drystan said as the carriage set off. “He tends to run his mouth.”
Dareena hid a smile at Drystan’s annoyed tone. “He is a talker,” she agreed,
“but it will take more than clever words to ruffle my feathers.”
Drystan glanced at her. “You are more than you seem,” he said. “I apologize for the way I acted when we first met—I thought you were a spy at first, and then when you told me who you were, I was thinking only of your safety.”
Dareena shook her head. “There is no need to apologize,” she said. “I was trespassing in the garden.”
“What were you doing out there?” Drystan asked curiously. “You had to know the rules.”
“I did, and I truly meant to follow them,” Dareena confessed. “But after three days of such a regimented schedule, being confined to such limited spaces…I needed to get out.”
She expected Drystan to admonish her for her confession, but to her surprise, he nodded. “I too have moments where I crave freedom. I’m sure that might sound odd to you, since I am a prince, but my duties are just as binding as any woman’s corset might be. My only saving grace is that I do not have to wear one of those heinous contraptions—I might be driven to murder otherwise.”
That startled a laugh out of Dareena. “I think a corset would ruin your striking figure,” she said. “You would look much better in armor.”
Drystan grinned. “I do cut a fine figure in my armor, though the weight can be annoying. One of these days, I will be able to shift, and then the only armor I will need is my scales.”
Dareena frowned. “You cannot shift?” she asked. She had thought all dragons could—the huntresses did, she knew. The Dragon Guard was formidable precisely because of their fleet of dragons.
Drystan shook his head. “Dragon males take longer to mature than females do,” he said, reading her thoughts perfectly. “I will not shift until my fiftieth birthday or until I am mated. Whichever comes first.”
“Ah.” Dareena sat back a little. “Another incentive for you to win my hand?”
Drystan smiled. “You are incentive enough,” he said, gently brushing his knuckles over the curve of Dareena’s cheek. His skin was slightly rough, and his touch sent tingles through Dareena. “Any man in Dragonfell would be honored to have you as his bride.”
